A recent Rolling Stone feature on The Rolling Stones featured the 8,456,201st telling of what may be the oldest story in the book of rock: the rapprochement of the Glimmer Twins, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. In my rock magazine-reading lifetime, these articles date back to the release of Some Girls. I wouldn’t be surprised if this story extends back a few album releases/tours earlier. The reasons for the divide shift slightly from personal/artistic- to personal/business-rooted interests as the years pass, but the narrative always drives at the same conclusions: Divided, the Stones give us the New Barbarians/X-Pensive Winos and Mick Jagger solo albums; united, the treat us to another greatest hits package, a world tour, and whatever new dirt can be scraped from surviving band members’ yellowing fingernails. For this, we give thanks and praise.
Is there an older, more frequently told story in rock than the rapprochement of Keef and Mick, and all the mixed emotions their union represents to rock’s core values?
Short of appearing on the cover of Rolling Stone in a pee-soaked diaper is there anything traditionally less cool Rick Ross could have worn for his big cover shot?
I don’t know jack about Rick Ross. I suspect he makes music that I would chuckle over in a way that shows my complete lack of respect for the cacophonous, impotent complaining that I hear in most modern-day hip-hop music. I would then briefly feel a little guilty for holding such a dismissive opinion of an entire genre of music, including the fine people who dig that stuff.
Presently I feel a little guilty about looking at this photo of a fat, tattooed, bejewled man with his bunched-up briefs rising way too high above his droopy jeans and feeling remorseful that people no longer get shoved face first in toilet bowls for looking this way. He’s probably wearing “bo-bo” sneaks, maybe the 4-stripe adidas knockoffs his Mom picked out of a bin at the grocery store for $3. It’s a disgrace. It’s not cool. It’s not even “I’m so uncool I’m cool!” cool. It’s stupid.
I need to drop about 30 pounds. I need to make sure my belt is doing its job. I need to maintain a modicum of cool as I judge others, as I long for the day that musicians get back to raising the bar for cool fashions and behaviors.
From Rolling Stone:
British rocker Graham Parker has reunited with his original band, the Rumour, for their first album together in more than 30 years, Three Chords Good, out November 20th on Primary Wave Records.
The Rolling Stone piece contains a track from their upcoming album, which delivers the chunky guitar crunch many of us grew up loving. An update on the documentary on the band that Rumour guitarist and Friend of the Hall Martin Belmont first discussed with us as well as Parker’s upcoming appearance in an upcoming Judd Apatow movie are also covered. I’m psyched.
While Rolling Stone fails to credit the Hall for its small but not insignificant role in the reunion, we can allow ourselves a pat on the back.
The current issue of Rolling Stone has a feature article of the “100 Greatest Guitarists.” Would you care guess who came in first place?
Last night I attended one of those silent-auction-school-fundraiser things. You know, one of those things where you can bid on a basket of scented shit while eating a Costco cookie all the while bemoaning the fact that you’re missing Ramon Troncoso pitch four shutout innings in what is the first glimpse of light this season in the Dodger’s bullpen.
In the past we’ve come home with some decent deals on summer camps for the boys, baskets of scented shit and “principal for a day” certificates. But last night I hit the relative jackpot. I was the only bidder on a “digital library” called Rolling Stone: Cover to Cover. It comes with a proprietary browsing/reading program and three discs of content that feature every page of every issue of Rolling Stone magazine from launch thru May 2007. I picked this beauty up for $20.
Chock full o’ stuff like: